Project K Collection
by the-angry-blob
Summary: A collection of all my Project K oneshots. Not all of them will mature rated, but it was has been rated so just in case. Project K does not belong to me.
1. Hatred

**Title: Hatred**  
**Summary: Because no matter how dominant he was, how much he abused Misaki, how much he bloodied and bruised him, Yata had Saruhiko wrapped around his little finger.**  
**Genres: Romance/Angst**  
**Rating: M**  
**Characters: Misaki Yata & Fushimi Saruhiko**

**I RAN OUT OF SARUMISA FICS ON TUMBLR AND I COULDN'T HANDLE NOT HAVING ANYMORE SO  
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**IM SO SORRY GUYS****  
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He wiped idly at his broken lip, his pleasure riding too high to feel the pain. He grinned again, as he watched Yata squirm underneath, gasping, panting for breathe, barely mumbling out an insult, before releasing loud moan, one that shook Fushimi down to his very core. He knelt and bit Misaki's neck, leaving another hickey, one among many pink stains sprayed across his skin.

Faster and faster they went, and it was all just a rollercoaster of pleasure, one that ended all to abruptly. And with in moments, they were both a tangled mess of skin and bones between the sheets, neither quite knowing how this all happened, only knowing it had been happening for a while; a while much longer than they had intended.

Hateful kisses stolen at midnight in the backs of alleyways, open windows and dirtied sheets, silent 'i-hate-you's breathed under the cover of darkness.

He loved watching Misaki bleed. Thin, perfect lines of blood, slipping down tanned, sweat sheened skin, groans and gasps filling his ears, the metallic taste of blood slipping past his open lips. And it all drove him crazy, crazy as he fucked Misaki into the wall, into the bed, anywhere, anywhere he could go on forever and forget about everything that stood between them, even if it was just for a moment in the never-ending flow of time. And those fleeting moments were just enough to make him bear the consist drawling of the world.

It was quiet. The only thing he heard was the slowed breathing of Misaki, his eyes shut and his head deep inside Fushimi's neck. He mused silently, about how the boy so filled with hatred, with rage, with _fear,_ could be so loving, even when it was he wasn't awake to know it.

They were too young for all this.

Saruhiko was nineteen and he'd already lost count of the people he'd killed. He'd remember they're faces though. The fear that ran through their eyes as he carved them open, as he made them watch and scream for mercy when he cut them.

Misaki screamed for mercy, even when he didn't want any. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Sometimes it would be his name that he screamed out. Sometimes it was meaningless swear words. But mostly, it was long, ecstatic, deafening screams of pleasure that ripped apart his lungs.

He'd hurt Misaki only once in his life, and that was when he left. He left for power, a power he still wanted.  
When he left, he gave Misaki his skateboard. He didn't give it, so much as force it into the other's hands and walk away with not so much as a glance behind. And they fought.

Every time after that, the mere sight of the other drove them into a blood thirsty frenzy. It was brutal and gory, and it reminded him oh so much of what they had before. They would stab and graze and glare till they were both bruised and bloodied. Misaki's guard was always down when they fought. He was so vulnerable, so much so that Saruhiko could choose to kill at any time. Misaki did try often enough, but Fushimi was too well prepared. He knew how weak the betrayal had left the boy.

He could choose to kill Misaki at any moment. A knife thrown a little to the left. A stab of his rapier a bit higher. But not once had he ever tried to. That boy was his life line. The moment he died, so would Fushimi.

As much as he abused him, bother before and now, no matter how much he teased and bruised, he could never bring himself to finish off the boy. It was never the look in his eyes or they fought beneath the sheets or on steaming concrete. It was his rage.

He was so _powerful_ when he was angry. He burned his heat and hatred and death surrounded him like poisonous gas and just a look was enough to drive him insane. Misaki was no enigma, but Saru took as much pleasure every night relearning every inch of the others body as he had the first time.

No matter how much he tried, he could never bring himself to hate Yata as much as Yata hated him. That boy had him wrapped around his pinkie and he didn't even know.

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**I LIED IM NOT SORRY AT ALL FOR WRITING THIS**

**#YOLO**


	2. Sex Tapes and Misleading Websites

**Title: Sex Tapes & Misleading Websites**  
**Summary: There always was a little spice to kissing someone you weren't supposed to. Twice as much fun when you're reacting porn together. **  
**Genres: Romance/Humor**  
**Rating: M**  
**Characters: Isana Yashiro / Neko / Kuro Yatagami**

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It was disgustingly hot.

The air conditioner had broken down, and they weren't expecting someone to come fix it for another three hours. Neko purred, despite having reverted to her human form, and stretched out her sore limbs across the bed, naked as she loved to be. Kuro, the gentlemen he was, looked away and muttered about indecency and nudity, all the while sporting a raging erection.  
Yashiro was half sprawled on the table, half on the floor, fanning himself with the largest hand fan he could find. He'd even dressed down to a tank top and loose shorts, but the unbearable summer heat still touched him with its fiery kiss.

Neko yawned loudly, catching the two boys attention. She sat up, hissing. "Shiro~, its too hot here!"  
The pale boy managed a weak smile, his eyes having a hard time looking away. He shrugged, "I'm sorry, but the air conditioner is broken and I don't know how to fix it."

Kuro hummed in thought, doing his best to avoid looking at the rather _naked _girl. Unfortunately, his eyes landed on Shiro, his mind doing a double take as he realized where he was looking. Ichigen Miwa had taught him better than this! He blushed and looked away from both of them. "W-we can look online."  
The shame slipped through his voice, and he was quite happy there was a table in front of him.

The two seemed quite happy about that. Yashiro pulled out his rather unused laptop and moved over to sit beside Kuro, Neko pressed tightly against his arm on his other side. He could think of a few rather colorful adjectives to describe the situation and not a single one of them was decent. He cleared his throat and typed into the search engine unsurely. He couldn't remember the last time he'd used a computer. Miwa hadn't, and well, anything Miwa didn't do, Kuro wouldn't either.

Several results came up, and he clicked on the top most one, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He was 90% that Neko's breats squished around his left arm, and Yashiro breathing over his shoulder wasn't helping that erection go down either.

Gigantic walls of text appeared on the screen, and as horrible as it seemed, he read on. At some point, he was a hundred percent sure Neko got bored and flopped back, her legs sticking up straight in the air. Very nice, shapely legs to be precise. He looked back to the dauntingly long pieces of text. As he scrolled down, he came upon an advert. It very simply said 'How to drill like a pro'.  
Drilling seemed to be something useful. He might as well learn how to do it.

What happened however, when he opened the new link, was something rather unexpected. Something _very_ unexpected.

Yashiro blew out his ear drum with that oddly girlish scream.

Neko was cowered behind the bed, reverting back to her cat form. Yashiro was hid in a corner, trembling with his back turned. Poor kids. They were traumatized for life.

Kuro? He was frozen in place. Personally, he wasn't really sure whether he wanted to take his eyes off the video. It seemed that what they'd first seen had merely been a preview. And then it went into a very elaborate, very _visual _how to. Half way through another man came in, and soon after that, Yashiro screamed a bloody war cry and threw the laptop out of the window (Where did he even learn to move that fast?).

Kuro, poor teenager he was, sat still in his seat, his face as expressionless as it had been. He very, very slowly stood up and walked out of the room to the bathroom, taking extra care to make sure neither Neko nor Yashiro saw his front or side. Once he was n, he slammed the door shut to quickly and locked it. He washed his face several times, but the pinkness never left and the tightening of his gut only grew with every passing second. The video seemed to play in his head with extreme detail and instant replay.

This would be a very long, long day.

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**Nothing better than writing almost porn in the morning! **

**Review! **


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